


Everybody Knows That Everybody Dies

by Blue_Kat



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: FAHC, GTA AU, Gen, Realistic Death, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-01
Updated: 2017-10-01
Packaged: 2019-01-07 16:29:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12236544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blue_Kat/pseuds/Blue_Kat
Summary: The big six retire, sounds like paradise right?





	Everybody Knows That Everybody Dies

So the fakes retire. It had to happen eventually. Either that or going out in a blaze of glory. And goddammit Geoff wants to enjoy what he’s built. Reap the reward.

You never hear about criminals of their calibre growing old.

It’s just not the done thing.

Sure some will “retire” but sooner or later they always end up at the bottom of a river.

So they plan.

They go out in one last height.

Someone must have alerted the cops.

Rather than be taken alive they blow the building.

Their bodies are never found.

And the Fake AH Crew become one more myth gangs tell their rookies.

They leave the b team with the city. Trevor stepping forward and leading them to new heights. New ideas fueling a new reign of criminal chaos.

Meanwhile the main six head off to a sunny beach side house.

Pool too.

“Why do we need a pool when the sea’s right there?!”

“Why not!”

For the first few weeks they relax.

Let themselves feel just quite how old they’ve gotten.

Perhaps not in age for the lads, but everybody’s bodies have taken a beating.

One too many close calls, bullet wounds and explosions.

Michael walks with a cane now, just a little off with his timing on a bomb changing everything. His eyesight is failing past the point of glasses too, despite them having retired he’s still loathe to admit that.

They all put on weight, without constant stress and exertion keeping them trim they go soft and lazy. It’s nice.

Except for Gavin, no matter what gets cooked the fucker always manages to stay like a bean pole, Jack and Jeremy find it infuriating.

Surprisingly, it’s Ryan that seems to do best with the whole retirement.

The sun, sea, and sand mean he’s practically going soft. No longer having to look over his shoulder everywhere he goes, he fully relaxes, lines drop from his face and the silver in his hair actually looks rather good.

He’s a little stiff in the morning sure, maybe more so than the others, and despite the sun helping scars fade, the deeper wounds will never truly heal. But still, that’s what they have the pool for right? Low impact exercise. He’s the first up and has completed several laps of the pool by the time Jeremy joins him each morning.

They settle into comfortable routine.

Sickeningly domestic.

Perhaps they should grow bored.

But they have each other.

And that’s more than enough entertainment for several lifetimes.

Life is good until it’s not.

Until the reaper catches up with them, comes to take what he’s owed. They’ve dodged death too many times for him to wait on collection.

Gavin wakes up early one morning. Usually the last awake, enjoying sprawling across the bed the others have vacated, breathing in the smell of safety and home. Sleeping alone had become difficult, nightmares always chased someone each night.

But it’s barely sunrise, he frowns, confused at what could’ve woken him.

Then stiffens as he realises.

He sleeps back to back with Ryan, the vagabond always did like someone to watch his back. And even now, old habits died hard.

At least Ryan’s death had been gentle.

What had woken Gavin was the sudden lack of gentle breathing at his back, the sudden lack of life.

Who would’ve thought the Vagabond would die first. And so peacefully too…

Peaceful until Gavin starts howling out Ryan’s name, throwing the others awake and reaching for weapons no longer there. It’s a shock, poor Jeremy can’t take his eyes from Ryan’s face. Can’t seem to process that he’s gone.

They bury him on a hill nearby. A proper funeral felt wrong. Nobody knew Ryan like they had. It was only right they were the ones to take care of him in death too.

The other gents decline quickly after that.

Geoff develops a hacking cough he stubbornly ignores. Until Jack’s badgering wins out and he goes to the Doctor.

He wishes he hadn’t.

He isn’t going to tell the others, informs Jack when he gets home it’s just a bit of a cold, got a little out of hand and gave him bronchitis. He’ll be fine in a couple of weeks.

Jack doesn’t look like they believe him but leaves it at that.

Probably going to wait another week before dragging Geoff to the doctors and bullying everyone in the building until they got a definite diagnosis.

It doesn’t matter though.

Geoff doesn’t make it another week.

They’re all going swimming, have borrowed a boat (legitimately too, best not to draw attention to themselves now) and are going to try diving around a nearby cove.

Geoff stays behind, hamming up the “cold” so he doesn’t have to go. Jack offers to stay with him but is quickly shooed off. “Go enjoy yourselves! God knows you’ve earned it. And someone’s gotta keep the lads in check.”

Everybody always joked it’d be his liver that gave out under him. Geoff had laughed along with them, the future had seemed so far away then, a future where age took its toll had seemed so far fetched…

Who knew it’d actually be his lungs that quit.

Must’ve been all the fire and smoke and explosions. Exhaust fumes and gunpowder.

But Geoff was stubborn.

Like hell was he going to waste away.

Watch his family wilt around him as he faded from their lives.

There were plenty of meds in the house. Geoff would joke that getting old meant they had more drug suppliers than they’d ever had in Los Santos. It came in handy now.

He just went to sleep in his chair. Eyelids growing heavy, the pills doing their job and dragging him down in to sleep. The only difference was he’d taken enough to never wake up again.

The lads would be fine, they had Jack…

…

It’s Gavin that finds him.

Comes bounding in the door, hollering “Geoffrey! You would not believe the fun we’ve had!”

Stops dead in his tracks when he sees Geoff’s hand hanging from the side of his chair, limp and grey.

He’s already cold, already stiffening.

The other lads hold on tight to Gavin as Jack processes, as they take Geoff by the shoulders and say their own goodbye to him.

Gets Jeremy to help move Geoff’s body.

As soon as Jack suggested waiting until the morning to bury him Gavin started wailing again. Saying he’d do it by himself if the others really didn’t care about Geoff. If they were just happy to leave him to rot on the floor!

They know he doesn’t mean it. He’s just in shock. But it still hurts.

They do it together.

Carry him up the hill and dig his grave. Lower him in gently and say their last goodbyes.

They bury him so Ryan is on his left.

There’s a reason to it that nobody voices but they all know.

Jack was always Geoff’s right hand man.

They’re all exhausted. Pile into bed with grave dirt still under their nails and on their faces. Gavin clings to Jack, it’s like he knows. Jack’s all that’s left of the gents, and Gavin doesn’t know what he’ll do if he loses them too.

Unfortunately they have to work it out.

Wake up to Jack trying to grab at them, terrified expression lop sided, speech slurred as they try and ask for help.

The ambulance doesn’t come fast enough.

At least they got to say goodbye…

The lads move out after that. The house seems too empty without the gents. They move into a bungalow, still on the sea shore, still close to the hill, but small enough for three men to live together. It makes it easier for Michael to move about too. The stairs were becoming an issue he’d been unwilling to mention. But the others could tell. They knew how it frustrated him. Knew he’d refuse their assistance. So it was best just to solve the issue by removing it. The new place suited them all better if they were being honest. It stopped Jeremy from staring at the pool, unused since Ryan died. And it stopped Gavin staring at Geoff’s chair…

They visit the hill three times a year. Michael stubbornly climbing it under his own steam. Gavin and Jeremy don’t mind, their bones ache too. Jeremy grumbling about how his chest always feels tight, must be all those broken ribs, Gavin quietly agreeing. He’s been subdued since Jack died, especially when discussing pain or potential illness. The only thing Michael and Jeremy are aware of is some issue with his hips and legs, his lanky frame coming back to bite him in the ass now.

“My… my arm’s gone numb”

And that’s all the warning Gavin gets before Jeremy falls sideways, suddenly gasping for breath, eyes wide in panic.

He shouts for Michael, the other lad stumbling up the hill when he hears the familiar tremble in Gavin’s voice.

He hadn’t moved so fast in years.

They can’t take Jeremy down the hill by themselves.

Instead have to wait for paramedics.

Can only grip Jeremy’s hands and promise him he’ll be okay. It’s gonna be fine. You’ll be okay…

…

He makes it.

They get him to the hospital, he goes on oxygen and a cocktail of drugs.

The doctor confirms it was a heart attack.

But has more news to deliver.

Once he’s stabilised they want to put Jeremy in for bypass surgery.

Normally there were non surgical methods, but his coronary arteries were fucked and he’s young by cardiac standards. He’s more suited for a bypass than most. With a bypass, heart attack shouldn’t happen again.

The stress is too much for Michael.

It’s all just been too much.

He collapses as the doctor talks to them, Gavin had seen him trembling as they’d continued to talk.

Aneurysm.

They place him in a bed beside Jeremy.

Neither conscious, Gavin sat between them.

And then Jeremy codes.

They shuffle Gavin out of the way as they attempt to bring him back, but it doesn’t work. They let him go.

And then Gavin makes the choice.

He lets Michael go too.

Turns off his ventilator and watches his heart monitor flatline.

Doesn’t wait for the nurses to try and comfort him, to be asked what they want him to do with the bodies.

He walks out, feet taking him to their original house.

He’s glad in a way, that he didn’t tell the others about his diagnosis. Things would’ve probably occurred the exact same. But he’s glad he didn’t burden them with his sickness. He thought maybe he’d beat whatever curse fate had given. To watch those he loved die around him. Be helpless to do anything but watch. Thought perhaps he’d be the first of the lads to go.

Fate was a fucking bitch.

He turned and looked at the ocean, always there, always present. Bloody cold though.

But it wouldn’t matter for much longer.

He stepped into the waves and they lapped at his feet, inviting as ever.

Tonight was as good a night as any really.

He couldn’t go back to their house. There was nobody there for him anymore. So instead he waded out to sea. Let the current drag him further out, let the burn of salt water fill his lungs. It wasn’t pleasant. His body tried to fight, tried desperately to reach for air, cling to life. But then everything started going fuzzy, started going warm.

Gavin closed his eyes, smile on his lips.

He was coming, he’d be with them soon.

And as the world faded out, he could faintly hear a distant voice, one he hadn’t heard in years.

…

“What took you so long dickhead?”

**Author's Note:**

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